


Loyalty

by PhiraLovesLoki



Series: Captain Swan Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Dark Emma, Dogs, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Killian is mysteriously transformed into a dog, no one in Storybrooke can change him back. It's not all bad, being the Savior's pet instead of her boyfriend, but as Emma begins to spend less time with her family and friends, and more time with the three strange newcomers, being a dog instead of a man has its disadvantages. Captain Swan, mild spoilers for season 4B (based on promos and sneak peeks).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for anon on Tumblr, who requested a story in which Cruella magically transforms either Killian or Emma into a dog, and the other person takes care of them. Thanks to the promo before the Oscars and the first sneak peek, this ended up being a little dark, and not terribly fluffy.
> 
> I expect nothing like this to actually happen on the show, but it was fun to write.
> 
> This story contains spoilers from the promo, sneak peeks, and some behind the scenes photos.

Killian had been walking back to Granny’s from the sheriff’s station when it had happened. One minute, he was on two legs, and the next, he was on four.

Well, three.

It had happened relatively quickly. He’d paused for a moment, thinking he’d seen someone across the street, ducking into an alleyway. Then, he’d felt dizzy, and he’d closed his eyes and reached out his hand to steady himself. And then he felt his hand touch the pavement, even though he was sure he hadn’t fallen.

He opened his eyes and confirmed his suspicions; he was indeed kneeling on the ground. But it didn’t _feel_ as though he were kneeling. No, it felt as though he were still standing; his spine felt perfectly straight, as though he were upright. He didn’t need to crane his head to be able to look around.

It was when he looked back at the pavement and saw that he had a large black paw where his hand used to be that he realized he’d become a dog.

He tried to say, “Bloody hell,” but it came out as a growl.

* * *

Even if he hadn’t known the way to Swan’s apartment by heart, he wouldn’t have had any trouble finding it. Her scent was unbelievably easy to follow all of a sudden. It was this strange mix of vanilla, cinnamon, and … just the indescribable scent of  _her._ It permeated his much more sensitive nasal passages as he trotted down the sidewalk to her building. She’d clearly walked this path before, earlier in the day.

It was a little difficult getting used to walking, though. Perhaps if he’d been a normal canine, it wouldn’t have been such an issue. He doubted that the werewolf Ruby had this much trouble walking when she transformed. But he wasn’t a normal dog. Of _course_ bloody transformation magic wouldn’t restore his left hand. Or, in this case, his entire left front leg. But as long as he kept himself from rushing too much, he was able to maintain a somewhat steady gait.

Arriving at Swan’s, though, he encountered another problem. There was no way to get inside, and she wasn’t home yet. She’d planned to have dinner with Henry and Regina at the mayor’s residence this evening, and there was no telling when she’d be back. What was he to do?

Nothing. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t fish the spare key from the hiding place Swan had shown him. His clothing had disappeared when he’d transformed, which meant that his talking phone was gone, too (although it had been difficult enough for him to figure out the damn device _before_ he’d become a dog, so perhaps it would have been useless anyway). He would just have to wait.

* * *

“All right, Sirius Black, you’re gonna have to move so I can get into my apartment.”

He awoke with a start to find Swan staring down at him. Had he really fallen asleep so easily? How long had he been waiting?

But it became difficult to worry; her scent was overwhelming now that she was right in front of him, and he couldn’t resist the instinctive compulsion to leap up and try to kiss her.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed, unprepared for his friendly assault. “Down! Down! Off! Sit!”

He registered irritation and anger in her voice, and his body instantly reacted. He immediately dropped back down to the ground, and he felt very … guilty? Guilty for greeting the woman he loved?

No: guilty because he’d upset his person.

Bloody hell, this was going to take some getting used to.

“Okay, you can go now, Fido,” she said, gesturing for him to move off of the doorstep. Instead, he looked up at her and shook his head. “Um, did you just shake your head at me?” He nodded. “You can understand me?” He nodded again; good, she was starting to pick up on the situation. “Okay. I’m going to be right back. You stay right here.” As she stepped over him to enter the apartment building, he detected a change to her scent; she was nervous.

He was nervous, too. What if she didn’t return? She didn’t know who he was; she might be calling Robin’s lackeys, who’d taken over the animal shelter. Or worse, she might just leave him out here forever.

But she did return, carrying a strange circular object. It was a hoop with string laced through the middle. She calmly swept the item over him, held it in front of her, and concentrated. He could tell that something was happening in the center of the hoop, but the way she was holding it, and with his new canine vision, he couldn’t quite see.

Swan’s face was easy enough to read, though. She was confused, then she looked embarrassed, and then she looked angry. As she looked at him, he felt a chill run down his spine; was she angry with him?

“Killian, is that you?”

He nodded; the additional tail wagging was unintentional.

* * *

Swan allowed him to sit with her on her sofa as she made phone calls.

“Mom, I’m completely serious. He’s a three-legged labrador retriever. I did that dream-catcher trick Gold taught me when we thought Regina murdered Archie … there’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever say.”

She reached down and absent-mindedly scratched behind one of his ears, and he suddenly lost all interest in the conversation. It felt _great._ He pushed his head a little more into her hand, and she scrubbed a little harder in response. _Definitely_ great.

She called Regina after that, but he ended up falling asleep during that conversation. It was just so easy. He’d suffered from insomnia to varying degrees for years; it had worsened recently, even after he’d gotten his heart back, thanks to the Crocodile. But he just fell asleep, suddenly and easily, and woke just as suddenly and easily when Swan gently shook him.

“Killian, Regina isn’t sure we can change you back, but we’re going to try tomorrow. I don’t want to try it alone. I might just end up making it more permanent or something. I hope that’s okay.”

He nodded at her and felt his tail thump a few times against the fabric of the couch. She chuckled. “You know, you’re still pretty cute, even like this.”

He tried to say, “I’d rather be devilishly handsome,” but it just came out as a growl. Swan reacted by shifting away, almost instinctively, and he immediately felt guilty. He leaned forward and gave her hand, which rested on the couch, a kiss.

“Well, I’m gonna go to bed,” she said. “I guess … I guess you can sleep on the bed. I feel like an asshole making you sleep out here. You’re not a _real_ dog. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

It was the first time he’d slept in her bed in her new apartment. He fell asleep, wishing that he could be experiencing it as a human, instead of as a dog.

* * *

To everyone’s dismay, the transformation hadn’t been reversible, and no one seemed to be able to figure out what had caused it. Regina had tried several times to restore him to human form, and she’d also tried coaching Emma, to no avail. The recently liberated fairies failed, too, but he suspected they weren’t feeling particularly motivated, given that  _he_ had been the one who trapped them in the first place.

Being a dog wasn’t so terrible. He slept on Swan’s bed every night, and while it obviously wasn’t romantic, it was very comforting to be able to sleep next to his person. She took him for walks every day, and brought him to work with her, and he mastered the art of walking, running, and leaping with only three legs. He still could spend time with Henry, though instead of going sailing, they’d play fetch in the mayor’s backyard.

There were drawbacks. His canine instincts were very, very difficult to resist. If someone seemed angry with him, he felt intense guilt, for example, and if people left him alone, even for fifteen minutes, he had trouble convincing himself that they hadn’t left forever.

Everything was magnified when it came to Swan. She really _was_ his person. Disappointing or upsetting her made him feel worse than he’d ever felt in his life, and the most joy he felt was when he could cheer her up. He craved her touch, to the point where she was almost constantly absentmindedly petting him to keep him content, and when she’d return to the apartment after leaving him home alone, he couldn’t resist jumping up to kiss her. She didn’t really like his kisses as much these days, since he was essentially licking her face, but he couldn’t help it.

It was also harder for him to follow the goings-on in Storybrooke. He understood that something was going on with the Crocodile, who was back in town. Swan made sure to keep him _very_ far away from the man, either for the Crocodile’s protection or his own. Ursula and Maleficent were also on the prowl; given his history with both the goddess and the fairy, he was happy to stay out of their way as well. There was someone else, though, whom Swan had spoken about. Some sort of strange woman who was obsessed with fur coats. He hadn’t had the opportunity to see this woman with his own eyes. Swan was treating his transformation as though someone had cursed him for nefarious reasons, and so the only citizens of Storybrooke she'd permitted to interact with him were her family, Regina, and Belle.

But as the days wore on, Swan began to speak a little less darkly about this person, and also about the sea goddess and Maleficent. She didn't seem to find them dangerous anymore, although she wouldn't explain to him why. Not that he could ask.

But it frustrated him that his only exposure to the current situation in Storybrooke was eavesdropping when Swan conversed with other people. And she was doing said conversing less and less. Henry had started spending most of his time at Regina’s; Swan had grown so angry with David that she’d refused to speak with him; and even Belle had stopped coming by to discuss the Crocodile. She was treating him more and more like a faithful pet these days, and less and less like a boyfriend. Which, of course, made a bit of sense, given that he couldn’t really fulfill boyfriend-ly duties in his current form. But it was still a little hurtful.

He’d even noticed that she _smelled_ a bit different. The cinnamon and vanilla were muted, and there was something not quite right about the scent that was distinctly _her._

He wished he could speak, so that he could demand to know what was going on. But he couldn’t. He'd thought about dragging Swan to the beach and spelling out a simple message, given that he could still read and he was certain he could still write. But with only one front leg, he was incapable of balancing properly to do such a thing.

But he needed to know what was wrong.

* * *

He and Swan were walking home from the sheriff’s station one evening when they bumped into a woman he didn’t recognize.

She was very, very tall, and very, very slim, and she wore an enormous shaggy coat. The scent of fur invaded his nostrils: the fur coat-obsessed woman, probably.

And she smelled _evil._

It wasn’t subtle, and his instincts told him it wasn’t even subjective. She just permeated villainy.

And Swan was hugging her in greeting, and they were talking about some sort of plan involving the Crocodile’s dagger. “Don’t worry, darling,” the woman was saying. “You’ve always worried so much. It’s like I’ve told you: it’s time to look out for yourself for a change.” She looked down at Killian. “I take it this is the boyfriend you’ve mentioned.”

Swan sighed. “Yeah. Do you really think this will work?”

The other woman chuckled. “I’m sure it will, darling. We just need to get the dagger, and you’ll be able to set things right.”

“Well, that’s the problem,” Swan said. “He and Belle buried the dagger, but she won’t tell me where it is, and he _can’t_ tell me. I even tried using this trick Gold showed me, but it’s not showing me memories any further back than just a few days ago.”

“Are you sure he knows where it is?” the woman asked.

“Positive.”

“Then I might be able to help.”

No, no, no. This was all wrong. The dagger needed to _stay_ buried. There was no other way to make sure the hat couldn’t be used again. And now Swan was going to let some _stranger_ have it? An _evil_ stranger? How did she not see that this woman’s intentions weren’t good?

But before he could aggressively tackle the woman, she knelt down and blew something into his face.

His mind immediately fogged up as though he were dreaming. He could still see the woman, and he could feel Swan’s presence beside him, but he felt detached from his surroundings. “Take us to the dagger,” the woman said.

Take us to the dagger.

_Take us to the dagger._

He had to obey. There was a small voice in the corner of his mind, what was left of his human self, screaming for him to stay put, or to attack, or to do _something else_. But his body moved of its own accord, in the direction of the park where he and Belle had buried the dagger weeks ago, under the cover of night.

* * *

Once he reached the spot where the dagger was buried, his body stopped automatically, and then relaxed. He’d completed the task given to him. His mind still felt foggy, though, and he felt even less like himself than he had over the past couple weeks. He sensed Swan’s presence behind him, followed by the strange, evil woman, who knelt down again and blew in his face again.

The strange feeling in his mind increased two-fold, and he felt his resistance melting. The small voice in the back of his head became smaller, quieter, until it was gone. He would obey, and wait for the next command.

His mistresses began to dig, and he sat, feeling nothing except the desire to help them, and the shame at his own inadequacy. He needed to help his mistresses with their task, but he couldn’t dig like other dogs could. And so he eagerly waited for the next instruction they would give him.

His mistresses were speaking, to each other and not him, and he could no longer understand. That didn’t disturb him; he was their dog, and when they needed him to understand, they would use words he knew. They continued digging, and then one of them reached down and pulled something out of the hole.

The glint of the Dark One’s dagger, with his name running down the center of the blade, broke the spell. Killian felt his self return, and suddenly remembered what was going on. That he  _wasn't_ really a dog, that these were  _not_ his mistresses, and that this was a  _really_ bad turn of events.

The woman, who reeked even _more_ of evil, smiled and waved the dagger. “Well done, Emma,” she said proudly, and Swan smiled. It wasn’t her usual smile; it was a dark and self-satisfied one.

So, now we can use Gold to turn Killian back?” she asked.

The woman shrugged. “Darling, what’s the point? You’ve always been afraid that he’ll leave you. Now he’s your loyal pet.”

The argument was absurd; Swan didn’t need a _pet_. She needed _him_. She needed someone who could tell her that she was bloody brilliant, that she was capable of anything she’d set her heart out to do. She needed someone to make her laugh, to hold her when she cried, and to make passionate love to her until she forgot everything she’d ever worried about. She needed someone to settle down with, to grow old with, to have a family with.

If she wanted a dog, they’d adopt a real one. But this? This was just preposterous.

“I guess that’s true,” Swan replied, to his surprise. “So, what are we going to do with this in the meantime?” She pointed at the dagger. “I wouldn’t mind putting Gold in his place once and for all.”

“Well,” the woman began, but Killian had had enough; he cut her off by leaping at her. He knew he wasn’t exactly a lapdog, and she was quite bony; he brought her down with astounding force.

“Killian, no!” Swan admonished, and he felt guilt begin to creep in. But he wouldn’t stop. She was his person, whether he was human or canine, and he _would_ protect her. He knocked the dagger out of the woman’s hand and growled with as much might as he could.

She seemed more curious than frightened, and she once again blew _something_ in his face. The same fogginess began to descend on him again, but he was ready for it this time. He focused on Swan—on that terrible evil smile she’d worn, on her strange recent behavior, on her isolation from her loved ones. He had to save her, and he could _not_ do that if he were reduced to a dog in both body and mind. The fogginess retreated.

“Cruella, what are you even doing?” Swan asked.

“I can calm animals down,” the woman grunted, trying to free herself from beneath Killian’s heavier body. “It doesn’t seem to be working right now.”

“Did … did you make him bring us here?”

“Darling, dogs are just naturally obedient around me. Typically.” She tried to shove him off, to no avail. There was no way in hell this woman was escaping.

“Here, let me help.” Killian felt Swan’s arms wrap around him, dragging him off of this woman—Cruella, Swan had called her. “Killian, stop that. She was just trying to help turn you human again. Sorry,” she added, directing the sentiment at Cruella. “Anyway, you were saying?”

Cruella rose and dusted herself off. “Well, one way for you to solve your _Gold_ problem once and for all would be to kill him.”

He felt Swan stiffen around him. “Kill him?”

“Well, yes. The man’s a menace.”

“Cruella, I don’t _kill_ people.”

“Darling, you’ve told me all the terrible things he’s done here. He left the town to be destroyed by that snow queen. He was going to take Henry out of Storybrooke, away from you and Regina. He broke your friend Belle’s heart. And he almost killed your boyfriend right in front of you. Do you _really_ think the Dark One is done inflicting damage?”

“You’re forgetting that if I killed him, I’d _become_ the damn Dark One.” Swan’s tone indicated that she wasn’t sold on the plan. He kept trying to wrestle free from her grip, to no avail. If only he had all of his legs!

“And _you’re_ forgetting that you’re the Savior,” Cruella said. “You’re the product of True Love, and you’re filled to the brim with light magic.”

“Are you suggesting it would balance things out?”

“I know it will,” Cruella replied. “That’s why you’re the one who has to do it. You’re the only one who can take on the powers of the Dark One without becoming dark yourself.”

“But what about Belle? I know she hasn’t forgiven him, but … ”

Cruella shrugged. “She seems to have found comfort in another man’s arms. I’m sure she’ll grieve for a bit, but ultimately, she’s better off. I know you think so, too.”

Swan didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Killian could tell how nervous Cruella was; the scent of anxiety was pouring off of her in waves. But then the woman straightened a bit and smiled at whatever expression Swan was making now, and he felt his heart sink even before Swan said, “Okay.”

* * *

Swan walked swiftly to the pawn shop; Gold had been sleeping there since his return. Killian followed, whining loudly at her.

“Killian, I have to do this. You heard Cruella.”

But she _didn’t_ have to do this. They could bury the dagger again. They could find another way to free Gold of the Dark One’s curse and eliminate his powers. They could do anything else _besides_ this.

When they reached the storefront, he dove in front of her, growling and barking. She couldn’t hear what he was really trying to say: “Swan, this is absolute madness! That woman is pure  _evil_ , and she’s using you for her own devices! Your magic will _not_ save you from this curse!”

“Killian, get the hell out of the way,” she snarled at him. “Why are you even trying to stop me? Gold tried to kill you!”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I love you, and I’d give my life to protect you from harm. I’d rather see him alive and free than see you blacken your heart.” But it came out as a series of barks and snaps.

“That’s it,” she snapped, her patience gone. “I’m going in there, and you can’t stop me.” She pressed her hand to the lock in the door; her magic burst forth from her palm and into the mechanism, blowing it out entirely. “You’d better move.”

And so he did the only thing he could do: he leapt at her, intent on pushing her to the ground. He didn’t have a plan after that; maybe he’d howl incessantly until someone found them.

But as he landed, there was a sharp pain in his ribs. His body fell atop hers hard, but then he slid off to the side, shocked by the sudden sensation.

“What … oh … _no, no, Killian!”_ He heard the dagger clatter to the ground. “Oh god, no.” Her hands pressed against his chest, and he realized she’d accidentally stabbed him. Well, he  _said_ he'd give his life to protect her from harm.

"It’s all right, love,” he tried to say. It came out as a pathetic whine. It hurt to breathe.

“Killian, stay with me.” She’d taken off her jacket and was pressing it hard against him. “Help!” she shouted. “I need help!”

He heard the door creak. “Ms. Swan?” It was the bloody Crocodile. Of _course._ The man was pretty keen on witnessing his demise.

“Don’t you dare touch that!” Swan shouted at him; he knew she meant the dagger.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll call for help.” He heard the Dark One slip back into his shop.

“Killian, I’m so sorry.” Swan was now leaning forward to whisper in his ear, all while maintaining pressure on his chest. “Help is coming. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said again, and again, it was a whimper. He kept trying to comfort her, but it only upset her more.

“You can’t leave me—please don’t leave me.” She was crying, and it was all his fault. “I love you, you stupid pirate dog. You can’t go.” She gently kissed his forehead.

* * *

Killian’s first thought was that it was very fortunate that his clothing had reappeared. His second thought was that Swan had _finally_ told him she loved him. And his third thought was that it was rather unfortunate that True Love’s Kiss could break any curse, but that it didn’t heal wounds. Thankfully, she was still applying pressure to the stab wound in his ribs.

“I love you, too,” he gasped; the damn dagger had certainly hit a lung. “Now bring me to the bloody hospital.”

* * *

Being a dog had not been all that terrible. He'd never slept better in his life, and of course, there had been freedom from responsibility. And he did love how strong Swan’s beautiful scent was to him.

But being a human was much, much better. Especially now that someone could  _finally_ fill him in on what had been going on over the past few weeks.

It seemed as though, in an attempt to escape the consequences of villainy, the Crocodile had teamed up with Cruella, Ursula, and Maleficent to force the mysterious author of Henry’s storybook to provide them with happy endings. And apparently, to do so, they had been trying to corrupt Swan. They’d been working together to some degree, but when it became clear that Swan was never going to forgive or trust the Crocodile, the so-called Queens of Darkness had decided to cut the Crocodile out of the plan, and have Swan corrupt herself by becoming the Dark One.

He had been a pawn, in more ways than one. It had been Cruella’s strange brand of magic that had turned him into a dog, and she had been the one to manipulate Swan the most. She had slowly convinced Swan that it was _nice_ that Killian was now a dog, something that David and Mary Margaret had been very upset about, leading to the brief estrangement. And she had also been the one who suggested that the Crocodile was the only one who could reverse the transformation, leading to a falling out between Swan and Belle when Swan had tried to learn the location of the dagger.

And, of course, having him in dog form meant that Cruella could pull out her other magical weapon: the ability to _control_ dogs. Regina still wasn’t sure just how he’d broken free of the spell; by all accounts, he should have remained in an incredibly obedient canine mindset for several hours. There were indications that Cruella had been planning to teach the obedience spell to Swan, so that he would be her obedient pet forever. He might never have regained his human faculties.

It was clear that the manipulation the Queens of Darkness had utilized on Swan hadn’t been purely psychological. There had certainly been magic involved. Swan even admitted that as soon as she realized she’d stabbed him, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she’d even been considering killing Rumplestiltskin in the first place. Regina suggested that perhaps the horror of accidentally stabbing her “doggy boyfriend” might have knocked some sense into her, and Swan flushed red with guilt.

He was fine, though. Gold had made good on his promise to call for help, and he’d been stabilized by the time Regina had arrived at the hospital to coach Emma through a healing spell. Whale kept him overnight for observation, but he was discharged the following morning. Swan wouldn’t even discuss taking him back to Granny’s; she simply reminded him that they’d been living together for the past few weeks, and that wasn’t about to change. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, and he had no desire to go back to Granny’s anyway.

* * *

Upon arriving home  _(home;_ it was strange to think of it that way, but it was true), they both immediately napped. He was struggling to readjust to being human, and had barely slept at the hospital, and she’d spent the night in an uncomfortable chair at his bedside. And so they dozed for a few hours, on opposite sides of the bed.

It wasn’t until noon that he finally woke up for good, and flipped over to find her staring worriedly at him.

“I almost killed you,” she reminded him.

“I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Killian, I practically went _dark side._ I was going to let you stay in dog form. I was going to kill Gold.”

“They’d cursed you.”

“Regina says we can’t prove that.”

“Aye, but I can.”

“How?” she asked skeptically.

“Because I know exactly when the curse broke.”

“It broke when I kissed you.”

“No—you broke the curse on _me_. That was a different curse. I broke the one on _you.”_

“When?”

“Well, love, you couldn’t hear me very well, but what I was trying to say to you at the time was that I loved you and would rather die than have your heart blackened. And then, well, I nearly died to prevent you from having your heart blackened.”

“That’s not the same thing as True Love’s Kiss.”

“Well, _obviously._ But it did _something._ ”

“Yeah,” she whispered. He reached out and wiped away a tear as it fell down her cheek. “That was the moment where I suddenly didn’t understand why I was doing any of the things I was doing. One moment, it made perfect sense that you would just be my dog, and that I’d be the Dark One, and that would somehow make everything better. And then, it just stopped.” She sighed. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank _you_ for saving _me.”_

“Saving you? I almost killed you. Remember?”

“Well, you didn’t, and then you broke the curse on me and healed me. I figure that pretty much makes up for it.”

“I did break the curse,” she said proudly. “Because I love you. I really missed you these past few weeks.”

“I was here the whole time.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we could talk, or actually be a _couple._ And you know, none of that dark magic would have worked on me if you hadn’t been cursed.”

“No?”

“No. Because you would have been there to talk some damn sense into me. You’d have pointed out that I was making selfish decisions, or hurting the people I cared about. And if I lashed out at you, you would have just been patient with me and stuck by me anyway, until you could change my mind.”

“Aye. Because _I_ love _you_ ,” he reminded her, echoing her earlier statement. “Although I _will_ miss what it felt like to be petted.”

“You did seem to enjoy that. Did it get your rocks off or something?”

“Please, Swan, don’t be vulgar. No, it was just … very, very comforting and pleasant. I can’t describe it except that it was just intensely pleasurable in a completely non-sexual way.”

“That sounds pretty great.”

“Not great enough to want to be cursed again.”

“Probably not.”

He leaned in and kissed her gently. “You’re my love,” he reminded her.

“You’re mine,” she countered. “Now, want me to _fetch_ you a glass of water?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I'd love to know what you think.


End file.
